Arshad Mahmood Awan
As the bidding process for Pakistan International Airlines reaches its final stage, a familiar drama is unfolding. The moment the reserve price is revealed and bids are made public, resistance begins to mobilise. The script is old and predictable. Questions are raised about valuation. Bidders’ intentions are doubted. The structure of the deal is called opaque or unfair. Emotional themes such as labour rights, national pride, and sovereignty are brought into play. And if none of this works, the process is slowed through court cases and procedural delays. This pattern has played out many times before in Pakistan.
In many countries, such concerns would deserve careful attention. Privatisation can go wrong. In weaker economies, public assets have often been sold cheaply to powerful insiders. Corruption, favouritism, and poor oversight are real risks. Healthy scepticism is not only natural, it is necessary. But Pakistan’s problem today is not excessive privatisation. It is long term paralysis caused by fear, mistrust, and the inability to complete reform.
PIA is not an ordinary state owned company. It has been losing money for decades. Its service quality has collapsed. Its fleet is outdated. Its reputation has suffered badly, both at home and abroad. The airline has already cost taxpayers hundreds of billions of rupees. Keeping it under the same structure has not protected jobs, improved safety, or preserved national pride. It has only prolonged decline.
Over the past decade, Pakistan has developed a reputation that deeply worries investors. Contracts signed by the state have been reopened. Deals approved by one government have been questioned by the next. Investigations have been launched after investments were made, not to improve governance, but to assign blame. Even foreign investors, protected by treaties, have faced renegotiation and legal uncertainty. This history shapes how bidders look at PIA today.
An airline is one of the hardest businesses in the world to run. It needs constant investment. Costs are high and unforgiving. Safety rules cannot be compromised. Political interference damages operations almost instantly. There is little room for hidden profit or quiet rent seeking. If management fails, the losses appear quickly. If greed or incompetence creeps in, the consequences are immediate and visible. Aviation exposes failure very fast.
This reality makes the idea of bidders lining up to loot PIA through favouritism weak. The risks are huge. The rewards are limited. Any serious buyer knows that mismanagement would destroy value quickly. The capital required is real. Public scrutiny will be intense. Exit options are few. Buying PIA is not a shortcut to easy money. It is a long and risky commitment.
Some observers have questioned why certain groups stepped back from direct bidding. Instead of treating this as suspicious, it should be seen as a safeguard. When state linked entities buy state assets, the process loses credibility. It feeds the perception that the government is selling to itself. Future minority participation by such groups can also be understood differently. In Pakistan, the biggest risk for investors is not commercial failure. It is unpredictable state behaviour after money has already been invested. Having powerful local partners can act as protection against sudden policy reversals and politicised accountability.
Critics have also focused heavily on the headline price. This is a mistake. Price alone does not determine whether privatisation succeeds or fails. Especially for PIA, the quality of ownership matters far more. A bidder’s business plan matters. Their experience with turnarounds matters. Their financial strength, governance standards, banking relationships, and reputation all matter. An airline cannot survive under owners who only want to strip assets. Nor can it be fixed by people who lack operational expertise.
Scepticism is justified only in specific situations. If rules are bent after the fact to favour a bidder with a history of asset stripping, that is a real concern. If a poorly performing airline is preferred simply because it offers slightly more money, that too deserves scrutiny. These are concrete risks. But blanket suspicion against any private buyer, regardless of capability, is not reform. It is resistance to change.
Labour concerns are also often framed in absolute terms. Job security is presented as non negotiable, even when the organisation itself is financially broken. What is rarely acknowledged is that PIA has already destroyed jobs through years of decline. Routes have been cut. Services have shrunk. Growth has stopped. The real choice is not between privatisation and protection. It is between a planned transition and an uncontrolled collapse that will eventually cost even more jobs.
There is an uncomfortable truth that must be faced. In a country where private investors have been punished, power producers vilified, contracts reopened, and foreign capital dragged into disputes, the real mystery is not why critics are suspicious. The real mystery is why anyone is still willing to bid at all. Taking on PIA is not opportunism. It is accepting political, legal, reputational, and economic risk in a system that has repeatedly failed investors.
This does not mean the privatisation process is perfect. It is not. Mistakes can still happen. Oversight is essential. Transparency must be enforced. But delay disguised as caution is no longer neutral. Every year of delay destroys more value. Every pause weakens the airline further. Every failed attempt reinforces the belief that Pakistan cannot complete reform.
The loud opposition that will follow the reserve price announcement should be seen clearly. It is not always about protecting the public interest. Often, it is about preserving the status quo. And the status quo has already failed PIA.
The real question is no longer whether this privatisation is flawless. No reform ever is. The real question is whether Pakistan can afford, once again, to prove that no serious economic deal is ever allowed to survive.
